


Of Sand and Thirst

by deathishauntedbyhumans



Category: Aladdin: The Animated Series
Genre: Angst and Humor, Character Study, Denial of Feelings, His skeleton arm intrigues tf outta me idk what to tell you, Light Angst, M/M, N I C H E H E L L, One-Sided Attraction, POV Third Person, Past Tense, Pining, Post-Canon, Post-Series, Too much focus on Moz's stupid hands, Villains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-31 01:46:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13964706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathishauntedbyhumans/pseuds/deathishauntedbyhumans
Summary: Mozenrath has been doing a lot of thinking lately, and a pile of sand appearing in his throne room with the name of his former arch-nemesis on the lips of his minion is definitely not doing much for his sanity.





	Of Sand and Thirst

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why I wrote this but I wrote this and honestly? I'm super glad I wrote this.

“That’s a lot of sand,” Mozenrath said slowly, staring at the pile that had appeared in his throne room.

“Sand,” Xerxes rasped, chuckling. Mozenrath shot him a glare, but he floated out of arm’s length and continued to laugh. Mozenrath sighed heavily, rubbing his good hand over his face.

“ _Why_ is this here?”

The question sent Xerxes into another fit of laughter, and he flipped over in the air, head angled towards the ground as he croaked and choked in his amusement. Mozenrath glared harder, and when Xerxes remained where he was without shutting up, the young sorcerer slowly raised his begloved hand and shot a beam of energy at the inelegant eel. Xerxes stopped laughing abruptly and let out an ungodly screech, falling dramatically from the air and landing facedown in the pile of sand. He wiggled pitifully for a moment until he managed to free himself, and spat sand before staring up at Mozenrath.

“Aladdin,” he hissed in answer, and Mozenrath saw _red._

“ _Aladdin_ ,” he growled, standing up in one fluid motion from his throne and kicking at some of the sand at his feet. “Of course. Why am I _not_ surprised?” Xerxes finally managed to extricate himself entirely from the sand, and he flew to Mozenrath’s side, positioning himself at his shoulder. “That _street rat_ thinks he can make a fool out of me, eh? He has no idea what kind of power he’s just unleashed. He’s… He’s…”

“Cute?” Xerxes supplied, and Mozenrath immediately felt his pale features go a dull red as blood fought his poor circulatory system in order to rush to his cheeks. He swatted at Xerxes, who ducked his hand as though he’d been expecting it.

Mozenrath growled in frustration, waving his right hand in a wide arc. A tongue of flame suddenly licked at the sand nearest to them, and when it diminished, a line of glass sat primly among the sand, wherever the flame had touched.

“ _Aladdin_ the _street rat_ is _not_ **_cute_** _,_ ” Mozenrath stated through gritted teeth. Xerxes perched himself on the newly-cooled glass, nudging at it with his nose before smirking up at Mozenrath.

“Mozenrath thinks Aladdin is _cute_ ,” he repeated gleefully, dancing just above the glass. “Xerxes knows!”

“Shut _up_!” Mozenrath swatted at Xerxes again, and this time, he managed to make contact. The eel went flying again, and this time, he hit the opposite wall. He slid down it a few feet, stunned, and then shook his entire body and pouted sullenly in Mozenrath’s direction before turning tail and heading out the door that he’d landed beside. Mozenrath groaned and waved his right hand again, and the door slammed shut, leaving him alone with the pile of sand. He stared at it angrily for a moment before collapsing back onto his throne with a groan.

“He is _not_ cute,” he muttered again, rubbing his hands over his face. His skin tingled wherever the gauntlet touched, but he ignored it easily. As long as he didn’t leave his hand any one place for too long, it wouldn’t do any damage.

The last fight that he’d had with Aladdin had been… humiliating, to say the least. Not only had he been forced to own up to a _mistake_ that he’d made in his spellcasting, but he’d also had to share a body with Aladdin for the majority of the time it took to reverse it. (Not to mention the fact that it had taken _weeks_ to get out of that stupid cage that the insufferable genie had trapped he and Xerxes inside.)

He wasn’t planning on bothering Aladdin again after that, but he _had_ sent Xerxes to deliver a message to alert the rulers of Agrabah that any communications between their kingdom and his own would no longer go through. (It wasn’t because he was holding a grudge. It wasn’t! No matter what Xerxes had reported they’d said.)

This, Mozenrath supposed, was some sort of ridiculous attempt to get back at him for shutting down trade between their kingdoms. It was ridiculous, harmless, and _that_ was the thing that bothered Mozenrath the most. Because it was _just like_ Aladdin to do something that would annoy him without actually bringing him any harm. Mozenrath had quite literally been inside of his head. He knew how the street rat thought, and he hated it.

He also hated how much thought he’d put towards Aladdin ever since the failed takeover of his body.

Obviously, the street rat was undeserving of the time Mozenrath had spent pacing his throne room, grumbling to himself about how irritating he was. And yet, Mozenrath hadn’t been able to stop himself from devoting that time to him anyways.

Technically, it wasn’t even any more time than he normally spent with Aladdin at the forefront of his brain. The difference between now and _before_ , though, was that Mozenrath was no longer thinking about Aladdin in the context of _revenge._ No, now, he would get to thinking about his eyes, and how ridiculously large they were. They were too large for his face, annoyingly so, and they only stuck out more with how tanned Aladdin’s skin was. They were brown, which was a horrible colour. It should have looked terrible. But it _didn’t_. And that was the entire root of the problem.

Thinking about Aladdin had gone from an angry quest to murder him to a fanciful daydream about his _eyes_ , and Mozenrath didn’t know whether he wanted to simply _let himself have this because nobody has to know_ or scream about it until his throat was hoarse and hope that it would make the --and he hated to use the word-- feelings for the street rat go away.

Mozenrath stared at the sand, a deep frown set on his features as he forced himself back to the present, far away from the thought of Aladdin’s eyes or hands or… any other part of him. He was a powerful sorcerer, the most powerful sorcerer in the land. A little pile of sand had nothing on that, no matter what the street rat thought. (And knowing Aladdin, he was probably sitting in his cushy palace right now, with Princess Jasmine simpering by his side while his fool of a genie congratulated him on a prank-well-pulled.)

(Thinking about the Princess hanging on Aladdin’s arm caused an uncomfortable twinge in his chest, and he growled quietly and shook his head to try and rid himself of the thought.)

Standing, Mozenrath strode around the pile of sand and threw open the door. He found Xerxes lingering on the other side, as he’d expected, and he gestured impatiently to the eel. “Get me my Mamluks to clean up this mess. I won’t have my palace looking like some kind of common desert.” He said the word with a sneer, and Xerxes bobbed his head up and down in response. He turned in the air and headed down the hallway before pausing and turning back.

“What about Aladdin?” he rasped, and Mozenrath glared, mouth quirking up just slightly in amusement when Xerxes cowered.

“Don’t worry about him,” Mozenrath responded, shaking his head. “He isn’t worth our time.” The lie felt convincing, but Mozenrath swore that Xerxes rolled his eyes before he headed out. Sighing to himself, Mozenrath paused in front of the sand. He really needed to have another _talk_ with Xerxes about respect.

“You think you’re so special, street rat,” Mozenrath murmured down to the sand. He glanced towards the door --he _had_ closed it upon sending Xerxes away-- before kneeling down and scooping up a handful of it in his good hand. With his other, he concentrated for a moment, and an empty vial appeared in it. He dropped the sand into the vial and corked it, tucking it away inside of his clothing, close enough to his skin that it was well-concealed. “You’re not even _cute.”_ He patted the vial gently, fingers lingering on the cool glass, and then shook his head and retook his seat on his throne.

“You’re not that special,” he repeated, still muttering. “Not. Even. Cute.”

**Author's Note:**

> That, uh... Yeah. That happened. 
> 
> Shoutout to @bagobats on tumblr for giving me the first sentence of this fic and inspiring this madness that sprung forth from it. 
> 
> Come scream at me on tumblr @deathishauntedbyhumans


End file.
